Murder in Paradise (Paradise Series)

by Deborah Brown

  “Give me their name and number,” Creole demanded.

  Fab stood up. “What do you want? I have a busy day!” she yelled back at him.

  Creole looked like he wanted to strangle us, Fab first. “What were the two of you doing out on the island?”

  “I wanted to check out the scene again. You’d do the same thing. How did a simple grand theft turn into murder with no suspects except for me?” Fab flipped her hair, and then stuck her nose in the air. “Where was the widow that night? Surely, you got around to asking her. You seem like the kind of guy who would ask after sex.”

  I tried hard to choke back a laugh and, instead, a weird sound came out of my mouth. They both stared.

  Creole stepped in front of Fab, inches from her face. He stood close, towering over her with his over six-foot frame, his body wound tight. Fab straightened and glared right back at him. “I’d bet my left...uh, that you found that damn briefcase of Gabriel’s. Tell me now what was in it and anything you else you found. Don’t bother with one of your suck-ass lies. We have you on hidden camera entering his condo. You know, the other crime scene, the same one I told you explicitly to stay away from. Then you rigged the system and went through the place, not leaving a clue behind as to what you did. You’re good, I’ll give you that.”

  “Next time you break into my house, bring breakfast,” I said to Creole, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  Creole whipped his cuffs from the back of his jeans. “You’re both under arrest. I’ll hold you,” he said, and pointed to me, “until Fab tells what she knows. Fab wouldn’t save herself. But you? In a minute,” Creole said.

  “And we could shoot you, too,” I threatened and took a couple of steps back.

  “Are you threatening a law enforcement officer?” Creole’s arm snaked out, pulling him to me, feeling my lower back.

  “My Glock’s upstairs so don’t go looking anywhere else,” I snapped and jerked away. “You broke in without a warrant. Shooting you would be self-defense.” I’d been to jail once and had no desire for a return visit; but Creole would get a taste of how a girl fights before I let him cuff me.

  His mouth twitched slightly. “You two are interfering with a damned murder investigation.”

  Fab stuck her chin out. “Is banging the widow part of your investigation?” Her voice dripped in sarcasm.

  If Fab got us arrested, I’d force her to deal with Mother.

  Creole leaned across the counter. “Did it ever occur to you that your friend here is hiding what she knows even from you?”

  Fab gave a quick nod behind his back.

  I leaned in so that we were nose to nose. “No, it hasn’t,” I said, knowing chances were she was doing exactly that.

  We stared at one another, a snap of chemistry, and he pulled away. “Damn you.” He turned. “Where did Fab go?”

  I stood and carried my coffee mug to the dishwasher, looking out the kitchen window. “Fab just drove out. Zach would’ve parked behind her.” I turned and faced him with a smirky smile.

  “Listen very carefully, Madison.” Creole’s hands gripped me tight.

  My heart raced as I stared into Creole’s angry face. I wanted to step back but I had nowhere to go.

  “You set me up, knowing I’d be distracted by your lips.” Creole pushed my back against the sink, forcing me to look at him.

  Creole grabbed the back of my neck, slamming his mouth against mine. Erotic need rushed through me with every flick of his tongue. His lips ravished mine, unmercifully. I moaned in his mouth, which increased the assault.

  He broke the kiss, pushing me away. “I’m going to get the info I need. Keep in mind, there’s a double murderer walking around,” he said, slamming the front door.

  CHAPTER 31

  My cheeks burned, lips swollen. I had surrendered willingly to his lips, letting his hands roam over my body in an intimate way. I enjoyed being trapped by his feral body, his mouth clamped on mine. Much to my embarrassment, the more his lips lashed mine, the more I moaned in his mouth.

  I jerked up my briefcase and keys, pushing Fab’s number on the speed dial. It went straight to voicemail. I waited to unlock the door when I heard a car pull into the driveway.

  Peeking outside, Slice had his arm around Zach’s shoulder hauling him out of his pickup truck, Zach’s face black and blue, his right arm in a sling.

  “Good, you’re home. He’s all yours.” Slice rolled his eyes, looking ready to run.

  I held the front door open for him. Zach shuffled past me and made himself comfortable on the couch.

  “Doctor says I need someone to keep an eye on me for the next couple of days,” Zach said, “make sure I don’t develop any symptoms. I’m supposed to avoid anything that requires concentration or complicated thinking. I promised the doctor I would stay with someone while I’m still seeing double.”

  “What the heck happened?” I looked at Slice; he stood ramrod straight, arms across his chest. His face told me he’d like to strangle Zach.

  “In a hurry to get to a meeting, I cut some guy off, didn’t pay attention when he maneuvered in behind me and slammed my left quarter panel, sending the Escalade into a spin. The guardrail was the only thing stopping me from a nosedive into the water. The SUV came to rest on its side. The bastard drove off, but another driver saw the whole thing, stopped, and helped me out.”

  “And you didn’t bother with your seatbelt,” Slice said.

  “Did you go to the hospital?” I asked.

  “The paramedics insisted I go to be checked out. The double vision factored into my decision to cooperate. You don’t mind my coming here do you?” Zach asked.

  “Of course not.” I gave him a lame smile. “At least you’re not bleeding this time.” Last time he’d been a terrible patient and he’d been shot. Prescribed to just rest, he’d be a pain in the butt.

  “Can I get a couple of real pillows?” He jerked one of the couch pillows out from under his head.

  I could run out like Fab, forcing Slice to play nurse. My aunt Elizabeth left me with a well-stocked linen closet, full of towels and sheets. It took me awhile to clean and organize, and I’d replaced all of the lumpy flat pillows. The hardest part had been getting rid of the mothball smell. I washed every single item and if it retained the hideous odor, out it went.

  Halfway down the stairs, Zach called out, “Can I get a blanket?”

  “Anything else while I’m upstairs?” Who in the hell wanted a blanket when it was hot outside?

  I came back with a blanket and pillows. The first thing I noticed, was that Slice had bailed. “Where did Slice go?”

  “He had to go back to the office to do my job and his.” Zach’s cell phone pinged a couple of times, letting him know he had messages. “I’m not supposed to be left alone.” He wiggled his fingers, motioning me to hand him his phone.

  If he were really sick, he’d be quiet and want to be left alone. No wonder Slice raced out of the driveway. “I have an electrical inspection that demands my appearance. I’ll get Mac to come and stay with you.”

  Unless I decided to run away from home.

  “You’re always complaining that we don’t spend enough time together. Besides, Mac’s nuts.”

  “One hour tops, well, maybe two. Take a nap and you’ll never know Mac’s here.” I couldn’t miss this appointment. It’s my job to sign off on every last detail.

  The front door opened. “Honey, it’s your mother!” she yelled.

  “We’re in the living room,” I said.

  “I’m ready for some fun.” Mother walked into the living room and tossed her purse onto the chair. “Who kicked the crap out of you?” She smiled at Zach.

  I hugged her and whispered, “Be nice.”

  “Car accident. Slight concussion. Madison’s nursing me back to health.” Zach didn’t look happy.

  “Can you stay with him for an hour while I go to an electrical inspection?” I asked Mother. “He might be your pretend son-in-law if we move in to
gether. You two can use the time to bond.”

  “Can you get me a bottle of water?” Zach asked. “Where are you going? When will you be back?”

  I ignored Zach’s questions and walked into the kitchen, I knew they were just beginning.

  Mother, hot on my heels, whispered, “He’s going to drive you crazy because he’s not sick and will make a nuisance of himself.”

  “This carwash project is important to me; I gave my word it would come in on time. Then I’ll hurry home.” I unscrewed the cap on the bottle and took it to Zach.

  “What the hell are you talking about? What carwash project?” Zach demanded. “I thought it burned down.”

  Mother smirked, reveling in the fact that she wasn’t the last person to know this time.

  “You know the carwash got torched on my watch, so to speak. I agreed to oversee the renovations, making sure everything is up to code. My budget doesn’t allow for my guys to sit around and do nothing. If there’s downtime, I’ll have to let them go; they’ll move onto other jobs and I’m left to find another crew.”

  “Why would Ivers hire you? You’re not qualified,” Zach snorted.

  Creole’s kiss left my nerves stretched tight. “I am, too, damn it,” I blew out a loud breath of frustration. “I juggled the paperwork on all of Jax’s projects and was good at it, and everyone made money. Take a nap or something.”

  “How long are you staying?” Mother asked Zach, sitting in a chair across from him.

  “A few days.” Zach smirked at Mother. “We may make it permanent and live together. I’d like Madison to move into the warehouse.”

  The front door banged open. “Anyone home?” Brad called.

  Now what? I looked at my watch. I hated it when people were late and I didn’t tolerate it in myself.

  “Doesn’t anyone call first?” Zach asked.

  “You don’t, and neither does anyone else. And that’s my brother.”

  Brad set a big cooler on the kitchen island. “We’re having fresh grouper for dinner. Fresh out of the Gulf this morning.” After every trip, Brad always shared fish with the family; you’d think we’d get tired of it. There were perks to having a commercial fisherman in the family.

  Julie followed in behind, setting down a large salad bowl and shopping bag. Liam had a pink dessert box.

  Liam ran over and hugged me. “I like family dinners.”

  “Madison,” Brad said, “I called the cook at your dive bar and he’s delivering that rice everyone likes and vegetables on skewers for barbequing.”

  Liam threw himself on the end of the couch and stared at Zach. “Who beat you up?”

  “Car accident,” Zach grumbled.

  If Liam noticed Zach glare at him, he didn’t let on. He clearly wasn’t impressed with Zach’s explanation.

  “He’s so modest.” I stood protectively behind Liam. “Six guys jumped him in an alley, he beat them all off and they’re in the hospital.”

  “Way cool,” Liam laughed. “I’d tell everybody Madison’s version of it if it was me.”

  Julie and Brad sat in the oversized chair together, my most favorite piece of furniture. Aunt Elizabeth had purchased the chair in an upscale beach store and I’d had it re-covered.

  “Dude, you look like crap,” Brad said to Zach.

  Mother piped up. “Zach and Madison are moving in together.”

  Brad slapped his knee and laughed. “Twenty bucks says you don’t last a week.”

  Liam grabbed my ringing phone off the island and handed it to me when I came into the kitchen. “I’m on my way,” I answered, then asked Julie, “Will you look after Zach while I’m gone? I’ll hurry back.”

  Zach pointed to my phone, hand up; he wanted me to tell him about the call. “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  Mother, hot on my heels, opened the refrigerator door and stuck her head in, then laughed. She knew questioning me drove me crazy. “I’ll hurry,” I told Zach. I rushed out the door before one more person could say a word.

  Zach needed to understand, there’d be a snowstorm in hell before I moved into his warehouse. I’d only gone back to his loft once since I shot someone in the living room. If there were to be any house playing, it would have to be at my house. He would need to get used to the fact that people came and went and that wouldn’t change. It only bothered me when someone pointed a gun.

  * * *

  I pulled up to Clean Bubbles and the city pickup truck sat in one of the wash bays. It surprised me to see one of my aunt’s friends, whom I hadn’t seen since the funeral, leaning against the wall.

  “Hi, Quatro,” I said. He’d earned the nickname because he had four fingers on each hand.

  I nodded to Ben, the project manager. The first time I met him he fidgeted around, a tall string bean, just out of prison. Long hours in the sun had been good for him; he filled out, had a dark tan, and carried himself with confidence. One of Spoon’s boys. Ben had driven the getaway car in a bank robbery. His words: “I was young and stupid, looking for a free ride, and thankfully no one died.” Ben proved his skills at Jake’s, he managed the men, followed my directions, and refrained from telling me I didn’t know what I was talking about. We worked well together.

  Quatro handed me his business card. “I don’t think I told you, but Elizabeth’s funeral was the best I’ve ever been to.” He had trimmed his beer gut to fit into his city uniform of jean shorts and a city-monogrammed golf shirt.

  “I didn’t know you worked for the county.” I looked at his card.

  “I drive around all day, post the appropriate stickers, and schmooze my ass off. Lunch with the guys at Roscoe’s every day. Now there’s a cheap bastard. Good hamburgers, but we have to bring our own chairs.”

  Roscoe’s served the best burgers in The Keys. But after a couple of fights broke out, he discouraged loitering. His policy: Take your food and go home.

  “Did we pass inspection?” I asked.

  “The electrical reports came across my desk; I got my butt over here quick. Must have cost a pretty penny to update from knob and tube.” Quatro tapped his clipboard, hooking his pen inside his shirt. “You’re all signed off and legal.”

  “Appreciate your speed. Stop by Jake’s anytime and have a beer on me.” I had tucked a couple of business cards in my pocket and handed him one.

  “Surprised old man Ivers didn’t bulldoze. Who washes their own car? They’re usually a front for money laundering.”

  “Another week for paint and we’ll be done here,” Ben told me.

  “Got two more inspections. You need anything expedited, give me call.” Quatro shook hands with Ben.

  Ben checked out Quatro’s hand with a look of surprise. “Dude, what happened to your fingers?”

  I wanted to ask the same question but hadn’t figured a way to work it into the conversation. The funeral didn’t seem appropriate.

  “An old girlfriend hacked off one during a fight. The other got cut off in a snow blower.” Quatro flexed his remaining fingers.

  Why did it take a missing finger or other appendage for some men to realize the girlfriend’s unstable? My guess is in the pursuit of hot sex, the littler brain thinks it’s worth the chance. “Snow blower? In Florida?”

  “Picked it up in a garage sale. Thought I could fix it and sell it to a snowbird. Can you believe the doctors couldn’t sew either finger back on? I kept them, but eventually the dog ate them both.”

  There was a moment of silence. I didn’t dare look at Ben; I might start laughing.

  “What happened to the dog?” Ben asked.

  “Pinto died from old age; a collie, the best dog ever.” Quatro pulled out his keys. “Now I’ve got two Saint Bernards the size of small horses. The neighbors moved away and left them locked up in a rental house. They complained about how big they got. I asked them once if they ever looked at their paws; that would be a tip-off as to how big they’d get.”

  “Why leave them locked up?” Who thought that was a good idea? “Couldn�
�t they take them to the pound or rescue or something?” I hated stories of animal cruelty.

  “Jӓger and Whiskey got a good home now. My grandkids love them. I think the dogs are secretly glad the kids don’t live with us. They need rest time to build their stamina before the next play date.” Quatro checked his watch. “I’ve got another stop.” He waved and got in his truck.

  “I’ve started my own gig.” Ben handed me a card. “You got any more jobs, call me direct. Spoon still sends referrals.”

  “I’m also happy to give you a reference. Every job you’ve done for me has been excellent.”

  “I met your mother, she’s a live one.” Ben gave me a half smile nod of his head. “Gave me a cigar. A little strong, so I smoke two, three puffs at a time.”

  My phone rang. I looked at the screen and groaned. “Zach.” I pushed ignore. “See you at the grand re-opening.”

  “I’m with four fingers. The only time this place had a lineup had to do with illegal business and nothing to do with clean cars, more about getting their hydro before it ran out. That’s good quality pot in case you didn’t know.”

  “Considering I don’t use them, I know more about drugs than I ever wanted to know.”

  CHAPTER 32

  On my drive to The Cottages, I wondered how bad the lecture from Zach would be for ignoring his phone calls and being late. I swung into the driveway. Everything looked quiet, no lurkers on the street or in the driveway. I could see through my windshield that there was a note taped to the office door.

  I bet myself a dollar it read, “At the pool.”

  “I win,” I said to no one.

  Mac and Shirl were sunning by the pool in two-piece bathing suits. “‘Lifeguard’ is not one of your job duties,” I said to Mac, letting the gate bang behind me.

  “I’ve got a dress I can pull on if any paying people show up.” Mac said before she pointed to a piece of cloth bundled up over a chair.

  “I haven’t forgotten about you,” I said to Shirl, pulling up a chair. “Fab and I will retrieve your belongings this week.”